


Inhalation

by Dangereuse



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AKA Loki, Breathplay, Do I have to warn for that if it's Thorki?, For humans if not gods, It's okay to blame Teresa for everything, M/M, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Norse Homos vacationing on Midgard, Possessiveness, Realistic Description of Corsets, Self-Destructive Tendencies, Size Kink, Tight-lacing, Unhealthy Codependent Relationships, Unsafe Consensual Sexual Practices, corsets, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/pseuds/Dangereuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki knows the only thing that could make Thor's cock feel better inside him is if he's laced into a corset at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhalation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cunninglingus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunninglingus/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Inhalation：呼吸受阻](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997663) by [Maryandmathew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maryandmathew/pseuds/Maryandmathew)



"Tighter." Loki says, and the poor maid wraps his laces one more time around her hands and yanks.

 

Loki's breath is expelled in a sharp hiss. For a second his breath catches against his compressed ribs and he gasps for air, before Loki forces himself to breathe, in small, tight breaths through his nose. "Good. There." 

 

Every now and then, he and Thor decide to walk among the mortals and revel in their petty pleasures. Recently, the Midgardians have developed this device, called a corset, made of cloth and the bones of one of their ocean-dwelling creatures. It is designed to wrap around the waist and enhance the figure.

 

Loki runs his hands down the smaller, trimmer lines of his waist. He looks delicate now, the emerald green of the corset contrasting with the white of his skin, his waist a small waspish thing that looks as if it will break under the press of Thor's hands.

 

Good. If this device was not made so that he can feel every inch of Thor's cock buried in his ass in glorious, magnificent detail, than Loki is no judge of Midgardian fashion.

 

It's easy enough after that for the maid to slip a thin silk robe over his shoulders. He ties it, lets the lace at the top of the corset and his right leg peek out from the gap.

 

"You may go," Loki flicks one white hand in the creature's direction. "Have Master Thor sent for." Loki takes a small, hitching breath, the tiniest bit breathless.

 

The maid nods at him, and Loki makes his way to his chaise. Normally he would lounge upon it, his back arched and his legs outstretched, but the corset is holding his hips and spine still enough that he must sit, straight backed. He pulls one leg up underneath him to soften the pose, and stretches his arm against the length of the chaise. He knows Thor finds him beautiful as he finds no other, but it never hurts to remind Thor of that fact.

 

"Loki, what--" Thor says as he swings the door open, and really, he should know by now that when Loki calls for him in the middle of the day it means he wants to be fucked.

 

"Hello Thor," Loki croons. He tosses the ends of his black hair over his shoulder, and, as if it was the barest coincidence, allows the robe to slip down off his shoulder to the crook of his elbow.

 

The corner of Thor's mouth ticks up. "I see now I have been called to service you," Thor says, voice heavy with amusement and deepening with arousal.

 

"Of course, darling brother." Loki leans his neck back and smiles at Thor. "Did you think anything less?"

 

Then Thor is moving, crossing the room to him and slipping the broad width of himself in between Loki's thighs. Thor's calluses catch against his robe as Thor reaches forward to grip him by the hips.

 

"Hmmm. Perhaps I shall make you service me." Deft fingers find their way under Loki's robe, stroking up the length of his thighs and skimming over the placket of his drawers before halting at the hard compression at his waist.

 

Thor rests his hands over the steam-moulded front. "What is this?" He traces the whirls of emerald embroidery with his fingers.

 

Loki hums as Thor runs his fingers over the stiff boning of Loki's corset, tracing the lacing in the back and the steel hooks in the front. "A Midgardian device. The maids wear them to improve their figures."

 

Thor snorts, his fingers straying to the knots in the back. "Something you hardly have need of, brother. Although I suppose it is pretty enough."

 

"Ah!" Loki twists one arm, catching Thor's hand before he can pull on the laces. "I wish for you to take me in it."

 

"Is that so?" Thor grins, and it's the same one that Loki has seen as he stands beside his brother on the battlefield.

 

"Yes," Loki sighs. He drops his hands to Thor's shoulders, arches his neck as best he can to show the vulnerable curve of of it. "Stuff me with your cock, brother." It's just the right amount of theatricality and lust to make Thor growl in his chest.

 

Loki knows exactly what he's doing, his breath beginning to hitch and strain as his pulse begins its rapid patter in his throat when Thor rips the silken robe off of him and shreds his drawers beneath his fingers.

 

Thor moves then, all coiled strength between Loki's legs, straining upward and knocking Loki over and back, falling against the back of the chaise. The muscles in his abdomen flutter as he's tipped over, the bones of the corset holding him tight and tethered as he tries and fails to recover. He's bound, for all intents and purposes, his torso affixed as if he's been dipped in sap and crystallized into amber. What little breath he had gusts out of him as he hits the back of the chaise. 

 

Loki writhes as best he can, his spine held still, trying to right himself. Thor pushes him down even farther, hand on his chest. It's easy for him to pin Loki down with one hand secure on the embroidered corset. "Oh brother. I see why you chose this device." his callused fingers brush over the lace at the top, his fingers spanning the lift the corset forms of bosom. He leans his face forward, until the bristles of his beard brush against the soft skin of Loki's throat: "You wish to feel your will dependent to mine."

 

In a second, Loki's face transforms in to a snarl, his hands into vicious claws. "Release me, you oaf."

 

Thor's laugh is loud and boisterous, and Loki's ribs ache in sympathy in the confines of the corset.  Thor’s hands pet the top lace border one more time, before stroking down the lines in the corset, moving down to Loki’s tucked in waist to where his body flares once more into his hips. Thor doesn’t stop there. The fingers of his right hand trail in between Loki’s splayed thighs, the thick presence of them brushing the sensitive skin of his perineum, back, back, until they touch Loki’s hole.

 

“You’re already wet, brother,” Thor says, so smug and happy, and his grin is so brilliant it blinds. Loki ducks his head to look away, focusing on Thor’s cheekbone instead of the pump pink of his mouth or the brilliant storm in his eyes. Thor is too beautiful sometimes.

 

Loki arches his eyebrow all the same, says with the same condescending tone. “I would think that was obvious. Apparently not.”

 

But nothing can quash Thor’s good humor, not when he knows Loki is wet and desperate for his cock. Thor nuzzles his beard against Loki’s face, scratching and tickling Loki’s soft skin. He’s like an overgrown lapdog at times like this, and Loki can barely manage to be disgruntled before Thor lifts him effortlessly from the chaise.

 

Loki lets out a little shriek as he is inverted, Thor moving his arms and legs as if he’s a doll. It’s worse than normal, this manhandling, his torso held in perfect, unnatural stillness. Loki scrabbles at Thor’s arms for support before he lands on Thor’s lap.

 

Loki gasps, breathless for a moment, and he can’t decide if it’s from the power in Thor’s arms or his sudden startlement. Thor’s grinning up at him, the tent of his cock in his pants nestled neat in the bare crack of Loki’s ass.

 

The pressure of that huge cock right there is so delicious that Loki’s hips try and swivel on instinct, to grind himself down and catch Thor’s cock on the rim of his hole.

 

Except he can’t.  

 

The boning of the corset is strong, immovable, holding his hips fixed in place. Loki gasps as he almost tumbles over. Maybe he miscalculated this Midgardian device.

 

Thor’s hands are there to catch him, his grip coming up to cradle Loki’s waist.

 

For a second, thy are paused on a precipice of lust, Loki’s eyes blown wide in desire at the realization that Thor’s hands span his waist, his whole waist, encircling him completely.

 

Od's blood, he feels so delicate like this, trapped by Thor’s strength. He knows he should loathe it but it instead it makes the secret places inside him ache even more for the length of Thor’s cock.

 

The small pause becomes too much for Thor's patience. Thor lifts him up, arms effortlessly holding Loki in the air, before crushing Loki down, rubbing the soft crevice between his cheeks back and forth along his cock. Loki can’t move more than his arms like this,dropping them down to his own waist and placing them over Thor’s. Thor smiles at him then, glorious and just a bit filthy, before he sets the pace of their rutting.

 

Thor has him utterly, the only movement Loki can make against Thor’s cock the one that _he_ dictates. Thor grinds Loki back and forth, slow and sweet, before Loki’s fingers start to scrabble at him. His cock is hardening, becoming red and arching up towards the silk panels compressing his stomach.

 

“Fuck.” Loki says. If this feels so good, how will it feel when he finally gets Thor inside him, filling him up entirely from the inside, pushing inside where Loki has no space to yield and forcing him to.

 

“Do you wish me inside you, brother?” Thor asks, and there’s an amusement in his voice that Loki knows he should take offense to, but nothing rises inside him but thick hot lust. He can't do anything but nod.

 

Thor moves him back off his cock for a moment, Thor’s hands leaving his waist for a just a few seconds to draw himself from his pants, but it’s long enough for Loki to feel bereft of the pleasure. He can feel the echo of heat where Thor’s palms used to be pressed against  the silk and boning, hot and sure against his sides.

 

It’s not long before Thor is back, hands just as insistent. “I hope you loosened yourself properly, brother, for I intend to have you.”

 

Loki smiles and tosses his hair. “And if I haven’t?”

 

Thor seizes a hank of Loki’s hair in his hand, forcing Loki to bend at the neck to him, his neck craning to compensate for the lack of give in his waist. “Then I intend to have you anyway.”

 

Loki’s breath hitches. Yes. Yes. This is how he loves Thor the most, demanding of both their pleasure, domineering with their sex. Acting entitled to every inch of Loki’s body, within and without.

 

Thor releases Loki’s hair, his hands resuming their tight grip around Loki’s waist. It’s easy for him to direct the hard length of his cock to Loki’s hole.

 

Loki lets his eyes flutter shut at the familiar pressure of Thor there. He knows every inch of Thor’s dick as well as every inch of Thor’s face, but he’s never felt it like this before. He’s tight, tighter than he imagined when he lay in bed with his hand around his own cock, and even with the lube slicking the way it’s feels as if he's being impaled.

 

Thor’s grip is tight and his cock is hard, his arms pulling Loki down inexorably. The only thing that can yield is Loki's body.

 

And it does, under the press of that thick cock.

 

“Oh, oh, oh!” Loki’s voice rises on each cry, as Thor presses himself inside. It’s frightening for a minute: the terrible and awesome feel of his body yielding to Thor, and then Thor thrusts the rest of the way in and what little breath his has left leaves his body entirely.

 

He’s breathless for a moment, his body transfixed on Thor’s cock, his lungs and diaphragm struggling to find room in the corset to breathe. What little space he had is now taken, and he gasps pitifully for long moments before his body relearns how to draw air.

 

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor gasps, and he looks down to where he’s sunk himself entirely inside Loki, the whole length and breadth of him buried inside Loki’s hole. It’s worth it, and the pleasure he derives from the blissed out expression on Thor’s face is even better than the pressure of Thor inside him.

 

Then the spell of stillness is over, and Thor’s hands are one more lifting him up off of his cock, before dragging him down hard until their pelvises hit with an audible slap of flesh. Thor continues that rough rhythm, lifting Loki up and down, manipulating his torso as if he was a doll built expressly to be fucked. Loki can’t do anything, his breath coming hard and short, his lungs straining for air with every thrust against the inside of the corset.

 

“You are tighter than the first time I fucked inside your virgin hole,” Thor growls, and Loki gets lost in the shape of Thor’s arms and the shift of the muscles in them as he is lifted over and over only to be dropped onto Thor’s cock.

 

It feels as if he’s being gutted each time, Thor’s cock so large inside him that every thrust is a direct assault on his sensitive insides. That special pleasure spot inside him that Thor knows so well is being _crushed_. Stars are blinking behind his eyes, stars of pleasure against the blackdrop of air deprivation.

 

Still Thor’s cock moves inside him, his body moved up and down faster and faster. Thor won’t tire, Loki knows, and the knowledge that he will be used like this for _hours_ makes his panting worse.

 

The corset crushing against his ribs hurts, Thor’s cock inside him hurts, the burn inside his chest as his lungs cry for air _hurts_ , but still the fucking continues, unbroken but for Thor's rough grunts.

 

Loki can’t support himself anymore, and his glad for the tight boning holding him up and forcing him to keep himself presented to Thor to fuck. His head lolls on his neck as the room seems to go dim.

 

“Thor,” his mouth forms, but his lungs have no air for breath, much less speech. He feels simultaneously numb and on fire, the reference for his entire existence fixed on the sundering pressure of Thor’s cock lodged up inside him.

 

Loki comes, his whole body shuddering, the clench of his muscles around Thor’s cock so tight that he feels as if Thor will never be able to pull out. His vision is gone, it’s black, and Loki can’t remember his last full breath. Everything is the bright pinpricks of stars and pleasure, and the hot splash of Thor’s come inside him is the last thing he feels before his consciousness is subsumed by darkness.

 

***

 

“Loki! Loki!” Loki hears it from far away. His ribs _ache_ , so badly that the in and out of his breath is both exquisite pleasure and excruciating pain.

 

Loki’s on the bed now, and Thor is over him. He smiles at Thor, the fierce ache in his ass the best memento of their pleasure.

 

“You fucking shit,” Thor says as he smiles, drawn and relieved, his hand gentle against Loki's face. Loki looks down between them to escape his too earnest gaze.

 

Thor is still clothed but for the length of his hard dick jutting out of his trousers, but Loki is utterly naked, the corset gone. Thor's continuing erection is not a surprise; Thor is like that sometimes, his body requiring more than one orgasm to sate his carnal lusts.

 

He frowns. “What have you done with my corset?” He asks, petulant, the memory of his orgasm vivid in his head.

 

“I have ripped that infernal device to shreds,” Thor growls, and Loki has but a moment to mourn the death of such a lovely creation before Thor’s face is pressed against his, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.

 

“Loki, Od’s eye! You cannot do that to me.”

 

Loki stretches out, flexing his body against Thor. His smile is wicked.  “It seems that you enjoyed it? Or am I supposed to infer the length of your cock against my stomach to be your indifference and the seep of your come from between my legs your dissatisfaction?” Loki wriggles underneath Thor, rubbing Thor's dick against the soft skin of his belly. 

 

Thor doesn't react to the stimulation. He simply searches Loki’s face for long moments, before he draws away with a small sigh. “I have no desire to see you, breathless and all life fled from your eyes.”

 

Loki follows him over, clinging to Thor’s shoulders. He refuses to let Thor retreat, not from this, not from this glorious intimacy. Loki moves back to straddling Thor. This time Loki can luxuriate in the flex of his spine, the rotation of his hips. “Liar. You wish to see me, as always, at your mercy.” Loki smiles, a wicked flash of teeth, before he leans down to bury his teeth into Thor's neck. 

 

Thor seizes Loki’s hair with his fist again, dragging Loki back away again, forcing Loki to disengage. “I wish to see you at my mercy _and with breath_!” He snarls.

 

Loki goes still. He reaches one hand to Thor’s, trying to extricate himself from Thor’s grip. “Thor,” he tries. This grip is too tight, his hair throbbing where it's twined around Thor's hand. 

 

“No!” Thor rolls them back over, slotting himself between Loki’s thighs as he knows he belongs.

 

Loki stiffens as Thor knocks his thighs wide, until he’s spread flat before Thor’s gaze.  Then he loosens, arching his back, offering himself up. "Yes, Thor. Have me, sate yourself."

 

Thor takes the invitation with a small desperate cry, shifting Loki's legs the way he like, slipping himself back inside as if he never left. Loki arches against the blunt push of his cock, feet scrabbling on the sheets as he searches for purchase. “Thor, Thor!” It's a little too fast, a little too rough after the fucking from before. Loki loves it. He practically purrs under Thor's weight, from the sheer pleasure of being held down and _used._  

 

Thor holds Loki's hips still for himself to fuck, thrusting himself in and out, burying his face against Loki’s shoulder. “Swear to me you will not use that device again,” Thor mumbles into his neck, his soft lips and coarse bristles a tickle against his skin before Thor bites in turn. 

 

Loki writhes as Thor hits his prostate with a particularly rough thrust. He’s too tired for his cock to rise, too tried to be anything but used, but he still tingles with pleasure. Maybe he will even orgasm like a woman, no seed to spend or cock to rouse, but his body clenching around Thor’s cock as if his ass was a cunt.

 

“Thor,” Loki tries, not willing to pass up such exquisite pleasure.

 

But that is not the right answer, and Thor rears up, face thunderous. He keeps his grip on Loki's hip in one hand so that Loki cannot move and shift their rhythm, but his free hand falls to Loki’s throat, thick strong fingers forcing Loki's air out with a squeeze.

 

The reaction Loki has is primitive and instinctual, his hands rising up to scrabble at Thor’s arm, bright red blood blossoming under Loki’s nails as he rips open the flesh of Thor's forearm. Thor doesn't even blink at the pain, leaning forward again but his hand never faltering in his constant pressure against Loki’s throat.

 

The moment is almost liquid, surreal and slow, Thor’s blond hair soft as silk from where it falls against his face. Loki wheezes ineffectually through Thor's grip. He's light-headed again, body tightening with pleasurable almost pain as his lungs heave and no breath comes in. 

 

“Your life is mine,” Thor growls.

 

Loki goes still, looking up into Thor’s face. His legs fall farther open, completely willing, as Thor continues to rut inside him.

 

“Your body is mine.” Loki sees the flash of sparking lightning in Thor’s eyes.

 

“Your _breath_ is mine,” rumbles like thunder from between Thor’s lips.

 

Thor shifts his hand from Loki’s throat, and Loki inhales the sweet air. His throat fills swollen, his mind blessedly blank but for Thor. Thor brings his lips down, busses the lightest kiss against Loki’s lips. His lips fall open for Thor’s tongue like his legs had for Thor’s cock.

 

“All of those are mine alone to take,” Thor breaths against Loki’s face.

 

Loki nods, eyes wide. “Yes, yes, Thor.”

 

“Good,” Thor says, his hand coming up to cup Loki's face, and the pleasure from that small bit of praise spreads through Loki’s body is enough to squeeze that small tremulous almost-female orgasm from his body. It hurts when he clenches down on Thor once more, little almost-tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

 

Loki watches in a daze as Thor continues to fuck inside him, the flex of his body as he thrusts over and over. It’s hypnotizing, how he moves, how he sinks himself deep each time. He lays there, still and quiet, his body lax against his sheets, his whole body limp but for that secret place where Thor thrusts deep.

 

When Thor comes it’s like the sun after the rain, and Loki feels it like sunbeams warm and gentle against his flesh. “Loki,” Thor gasps into his neck, his lips brushing Loki’s bruising skin.

 

 _Thor_ , Loki thinks, mind still and quiet.

 

For once, Loki doesn’t even mind when Thor falls asleep buried still inside him.


End file.
